


Outward Expressions

by Yatzstar



Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, First Words, Fluff, Gen, POV Baby Yoda, POV The Child, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22143766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: They both have outward expressions to make to each other.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565002
Comments: 48
Kudos: 942
Collections: The Best Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda Fics, The Best Grogu | Baby Yoda POV Fics, The Best Parent Din Djarin Fics, The Best of the Best Mandalorian Fics





	Outward Expressions

**Author's Note:**

> I just sort of started writing this as an idea of the Green Bean wanting to see his father smile, and it evolved into this. Enjoy!! <3

The Child tore his eyes away from the silver ball in his claws, looking up at his father’s face. It was his real face now, the one made of flesh and bone. It was a rare sight, and the Child took the time to appreciate it. Not often did his father remove the metal face he showed to the world, and he only did it when it was just the two of them.

The Child blinked, taking in the details. His father’s eyes were closed, his chin dipping dangerously to his to chest. The Child could feel the weariness rolling off him; he did not sleep often, and when he did, it restless and full of dreams.

His true face was full of emotions in stark contrast to the metal one. The Child relished in these emotions, taking in every eyebrow raise, every eye-roll, every frown, for it was so gloriously complex in comparison to the unfeeling metal he usually found himself faced with.

However, there was one thing that caused the Child consternation. His father had yet to smile at him. He knew his father was not without happiness; he could feel it in the man’s spirit, an overwhelming light especially when they were alone and they played together.

Yet there remained the lack of outward expression, and this troubled the Child. In his mind, his father deserved to smile more than anyone. The closest he had gotten was a slight upward twitch of the lips, but not quite a smile.

His father’s head nodded lower.

The Child set his toy aside, a frown of determination appearing on his face. His father would smile—he would see to it himself.

He clambered out of his pram and onto the floor of the cockpit, shuffling across to where his father sat dozing. He latched his claws onto the edge of the seat and started to haul himself up, but his movement woke his father up. A large hand reached down and scooped him up, doing the hard work of getting into his father’s lap for him.

“I’m awake, _ad’ika_ ,” his father murmured.

The Child looked up at his father’s face, remembering his mission. He attempted to stand, wobbling on the uneven surface that was his father’s lap. Two gentle hands came to his aid, steadying him as he stepped forwards, leaning against the shining chestplate.

He looked up into his father’s face, which was now only inches away from his own. He reached up with the intention of touching his father’s lips.

“What is it?” his father asked, his face tired and lined with care.

The Child touched the man’s lips, perturbed. He could feel the warmth in his spirit, yet still he did not smile. His father frowned instead, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

The Child babbled his exasperation, irritated that his father did not understand what he wanted. Amidst his stream of non-words, something sprang forth, a word he had heard used in reference to his father many times in many forms that he now did his best to vocalize on his own.

“Da!”

The Child was surprised when his vocalization caused his father to straighten, all vestiges of weariness vanishing in an instant. His eyes went wide, and the Child felt an explosion of… _something_ in his spirit.

“What…did you say?” his father asked, some new emotion on his face.

The Child stared, perplexed at this newfound reaction and wondering if he liked it. The _something_ in his spirit was still there, roaring in a torrent around them, but this did not concern the Child. It was new and hectic, but good.

“Can you say that again?” His father bounced him a little, meeting his gaze. This was not quite what the Child had hoped for, but he received attention for it, and his father was happy, as well as something else.

“Dada!” he repeated, clutching at the man’s sleeve.

His father put his head back against the chair, turning his gaze upwards towards the ceiling. The _something_ only increased in intensity, surrounding them both in warmth.

Pleased with the reaction his vocalization had garnered, the Child happily continued, knowing the word meant his father, which was good. “Da…da…dadada…”

His father finally looked back at him, and the Child eagerly met his gaze. Something glistened in his eyes, the likes of which the Child had never seen on his father.

“Da!”

Then it happened.

His father smiled, widely, introducing complexity to his face the Child had not before considered. New lines appeared on his face and around his eyes, deeper than the ones that were normally there, but these were good lines, not made of fear and worry like the others seemed to be.

The Child wriggled, unable to sit still in his immense joy and triumph. Finally, the warmth of the happiness in his father’s spirit had overflowed into his outward expressions for him to see, and he was satisfied with his objective complete.

“Da!” he said, unable to stop himself, smacking the beskar of his father’s chestplate as he addressed him.

His father huffed, but the smile did not go away. “Yeah, kid, I guess there’s no denying it.”

The _something_ faded away slightly, overrun by the pounding joy, but it lingered there for long after. The Child did not understand what this _something_ was, and would not for many years, but he knew it was good and right in that moment.

That _something_ was the shock and elation of a first word, of a name given, of an outward expression and affirmation of fatherhood assumed. Din Djarin found himself unable to do anything but smile for the rest of the day, and every time the Child uttered the word, he could not help it, which, though unbeknownst to him, gave the kid his own secret joy.

“You’ve made me smile more in a day than anyone has managed in the past twenty years,” he told the Child. “What do you think of that?”

“Da!” said the Child with his own grin, and that was all the answer he needed.


End file.
